I now baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the…” The words were drowned as my head joined the rest of my body, submerged beneath Rice Lake. For a fleeting moment I was held and then pulled back to the surface. Once there, a chorus of amens greeted me, and as Pastor Springer and I made our way toward shore, my new church family began singing “My Peace.”

“Why did you want to be baptized, Caleb?” That’s the only question I remember from that sunny July afternoon.

“I want to have more jobs in the church,” I replied, “so I can feel more involved.” At the time, I was content with my response. Later, however, I realized I was seeking something else.

My duties in the church started small. I helped my grandma in the Primary division, and I was also the assistant special music director and children’s story coordinator. These jobs succeeded in getting me involved, and working along with my grandma allowed me to see how an experienced teacher managed a class. I was involved, interested and enjoying my Sabbath experience.

When I was 16 and had been a member of my church for nearly four years, I accepted roles as Primary director and bulletin editor. I could hardly wait for that warm, fuzzy feeling to fill my soul.

Instead, I was left discouraged and empty. My interest in the church dwindled. My youthful exuberance was now covered by a black cloud of disinterest.

Some weeks I would show up, drop off the bulletins, teach my Sabbath School class and leave, feeling guilty but not guilty enough to stay. Once I graduated from high school, I quit going to church altogether. Why? Did I suddenly lose my faith? What about my baptismal comment about wanting to become “more involved”? What had changed?

Interested?

I quit going to church because I was no longer interested, and I was no longer interested because I was no longer learning. Involvement doesn’t inevitably cause interest. Interest causes involvement. I put the cart before the horse and then proceeded to smash the cart repeatedly into the dust. Holding a job in the church doesn’t make one vitally involved. When I was younger I loved Sabbath School. I loved the singing, the lesson, even memorizing memory verses. The older I got, the less I learned. I was taught the same old Bible stories I’d heard since I was five. As a result, I began to lose interest.

By the same token, the summer my brother Jake and I held a Bible study with a non-Adventist during Sabbath mornings was by far the most spiritual time I have ever experienced. Instead of feeling bored and turned off by a sermon I sensed I didn’t need, I was digging into the Bible and learning for myself because I wanted to. Every Sabbath I was excited to get up and go to church. I could hardly wait for Sabbath School to end so we could start the Bible Study. I was interested. I was involved.

According to Steps to Christ, my experience was natural and predictable: “If we will go to work as Christ designs that His disciples shall, and win souls for Him, you will feel the need of a deeper experience and greater knowledge of divine things, and will hunger and thirst after righteousness. You will plead with God, and your faith will be strengthened, and your soul will drink deeper drafts at the well of salvation” (p. 80).

Involvement by itself will never be enough. Our involvement must be meaningful — risky. By participating in that Bible study I was putting myself and my beliefs out where everyone could see. I allowed myself to be vulnerable because I knew in the end the juice would be worth the squeeze. Unfortunately, the Bible study fizzled out, and I was back into the ho-hum of Sabbath School and church. My interest faltered and, as stated earlier, I left the church. I never told anyone I was leaving, and they never asked.

Was it anyone’s fault? No. Is it a problem? Yes.

Listen
Communication between generations is a problem that can be fixed. Young people can speak up and be willing to voice their opinions in a straightforward and mature manner. Adults can be ready to listen to these concerns and suggestions with open minds, remembering that longevity shouldn’t be the only impetus. Not every complaint warrants action, but each should warrant an attentive, listening ear.

Looking back, I could have said something to my parents, an elder, or even the pastor. I could have shared the struggles I was having. I could have asked for help or offered suggestions as to what would make the Sabbath experience more appealing. Why didn’t I? I am too young, I thought. They won’t listen to me. To youth I say, if we don’t talk, others can’t listen. However, once we start talking, I’ll bet most will be grateful for our input. What if we get ignored or pushed to the side? Talk to someone else and keep talking until someone finally listens. It won’t be easy, but it definitely will be worth the effort.

To the more experienced churchgoers, I say, “Don’t sit back and wait: talk to the youth and find out what’s on their minds. Show them genuine interest in their opinions.” This is at least a step in the right direction.

Writing in Religious Education, an Andrews University Theological Seminary publication, Roger Dudley concluded, “It seems reasonable to believe that at least 40 percent to 50 percent of Seventh-day Adventist teenagers in North America are essentially leaving the church by their middle 20s.”

We have the power to stop this mass exodus. We need to listen. We need to ask questions. Our worship of God shouldn’t just be a weekly ritual but a daily lifestyle, one that fosters growth, encourages learning, and discourages drowning.

pp.13,16 adventist today | vol. 15 issue 6